resolve
by natodiangelo
Summary: He was weak for many things, wishes and desires unfilled inside him – but he wasn't weak.


Night was not a good time for Kurapika. Night was the end of sunlight, the end of warmth, the end of the day. Night was when people went home, went to sleep. Night was when creepers and criminals and those looking for a fight went out, Kurapika usually among them. Those night spent as a bodyguard, fighting, protecting, just _moving_ – those weren't as bad. He could slow unnecessary thoughts to focus on the present. Those spent alone were the ones he dreaded.

Silence. Too much silence, pushing in on his ears, his thoughts; silence left for him to fill with his worries and doubts and insecurities.

What if it was all for nothing, his efforts? What would he achieve above his own peace of mind – if he was even able to achieve that? His people were dead. His family, relatives, friends: dead.

* * *

He made a list, once, of reasons to continue:

 _1) to keep the eyes of my clan from vile hands._

 _2) to protect those I care about._

He hadn't gone past that. Those two things were all he needed to pull himself back on track – back into a mindset that would keep him living.

Take back the eyes of the Kurta's.

Protect, help, be there for those few he loved.

He could do that. He _would_ do that.

* * *

Night was not a good time for Kurapika. His never ending stress, anxiety, worry for his life, brought the shadows up from the back of his mind, mixing with the ones around him until everything was black.

He missed.

He missed his family – the people he'd grown up with, who had loved him and protected him. He hadn't protected them.

He missed his newer friends – Gon, Leorio, Killua – who had helped him more than he could convey, who had lit one more candle of motivation to his already solid resolve, who had fought with him but never at him, and asked for nothing in return

He missed the feeling of unconditional love.

But he wouldn't give into his own desire. The pained cries of the Kurta's yelled louder in his mind than his own wants, needs.

 _Family comes first._

He would satisfy the wishes of his people, and then rejoin his comrades.

* * *

Thoughts moved forward, voicing themselves without consent.

 _What if they've given up on you?_

He had been gone; longer than expected, longer than he ever wanted to have to be gone – years spent chasing, years of fighting and fighting and _fighting_.

 _What will you do with your life with no where to go?_

He had no home. He had no family. If his friends didn't once again accept him after their time apart, he would have nothing. No one, once again.

He could try to find people – someone to be acquainted with, someone to talk to that would take the edge off his loneliness.

 _But what if there isn't anyone to find? What if you're rejected, again and again? Who would like someone who kills for a living?_

Why did he try to delude himself? His family was dead – and he was supposed to be alone.

* * *

Kurapika wasn't weak – not in the least. He wasn't big, but he had undeniable strength and power, and enough experience to use it well. He wasn't weak, but that didn't mean he didn't feel weak.

He was lonely. He wouldn't make friends as a bodyguard – refused to. He didn't want friendship to get in the way of his job,and talked only when necessary around them.

He could clench his fist and feel the cold edges of his chains, a tangible representation of his power. He could feel as he moved the muscles he had trained to have, lean but still strong, hidden behind his baggy clothes. Strategies, millions of them, would go through his head while planning. He wasn't weak.

But pain would still strike his heart when he thought of all the people he knew were dead. Tears would still pull at his eyes when he remembered that night, a tug at his heart and an angry flare. He would curl up to sleep and wish for the warmth of another person beside him, the calm sound of fellow breathing. He would long for the day when finally he could see his friends again, done with his mission and happy.

He was weak for many things, wishes and desires unfilled inside him – but he wasn't weak.


End file.
